Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Ah, so you do want Graham after all.”
I shudder. “Not him either.”
“Fine … what about with …” He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. “Your husband?”
Flutters break out in my gut. I was hoping he’d ask that. “Are we still talking hypothetically?”
His Adam’s apple bounces, and he doesn’t answer.
Somehow his hands squeeze even tighter and fuck, I swear he’s going to give me bruises, but I don’t ask him to stop. I can’t read body language, and I usually miss a lot when it comes to people not using their words, but this … right here and now, it’s like I can hear what Tripp is saying without him saying anything.
It’s hypothetical if I want it to be hypothetical.
I’m certain I don’t want it to be.
This is nice. Dancing with him. His thigh between my legs.
I let my fingers trail over his hard abs as I think through his question as if he’s actually propositioning me. I’m not entirely sure he is, because he was adamant on keeping this marriage official on paper only, but I can’t help thinking about what it would be like. To be with Tripp. In that way.
I think … I think I’d want it. “Maybe I’d try both. But … well, you know what you’re doing, right? Coach wouldn’t put me in as goalie for a game because it’s not my area of expertise, so … well, I’d want you—uh, my husband to do it to me first. I’ve never, umm …”
“Done anal before?” His voice is gravelly, and it makes my cheeks flush.
“Yeah … but it’s different than with a chick, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, I can think of one big fucking difference.”
And when Tripp shifts, I can feel one big fucking difference too. One hard, thick difference pressed against my thigh.
He goes to pull back, like his point has been made, but I crush him against me. Torsos flush, foreheads pressed together, his hard-on against my thigh, and my rapidly thickening dick against his.
It’s just a physical reaction.
Sure.
Right.
That’s what’s happening here.
The physical reaction is why my blood feels overheated.
The physical reaction is why I can’t move away.
The physical reaction is why I grind myself against him and—actually, that one is accurate.
But even if I am the dumbest person on earth, I also know it’s not the physical reaction making that urge to kiss him rise up in me again.
This time when I grab his ass with one hand, there’s nothing polite about it. I palm one of his round cheeks and twist my free hand through his hair. I’m breathing harder, my heartbeat is drumming so fast I’m sure he can probably feel it, and sweat is breaking out along my skin.
“Turn around,” he growls.
It’s the last thing I want to do. Turning around means being further from kissing him. Turning around means losing the pressure against my cock. But I do it, because it’s Tripp and he asked, and I’d give him anything.
I turn, and Tripp’s hands close over my abs, holding me against him and then … then I’m met with a whole new sensation. His hard cock rests firmly in the crease of my ass, and my cheeks heat to boiling point. My cock is pressed against my fly, begging to be set free, to be touched, and I’d worry about someone noticing my problem if the guys around us weren’t all in similar situations.
“Still think you’d want to bottom?” he rasps.
“More than ever.”
Tripp’s exhales are loud against my ear, and I’m not even aware that I’m grinding back against him until he grabs my hips tightly.
“Fuck, you need to stop that,” he warns.
I turn my head until our lips are a breath apart. “Please, Tripp. I’ve never been so hard in my life.”
He curses under his breath. “You can’t say those things to me.”
“So it’s okay for me to rub it against you if I don’t talk about it?” I whine. Because, shit. It’s aching. I’m not going to be able to dance much longer with him wrapped around me like this.
“Exactly,” Tripp says.
“Fine.” I grab his hand and bring it down over my cock. If I can rub against his leg, why not his hand?
His grip tightens and makes me whimper.
“Yes …”
“Oh, fuck.” He nips at my ear at the same time as he grinds against me again. “I … I can take care of that. If you want me to.” His voice breaks, and the sound is so hot, I almost forget to answer.
“Yes. Please. Now.”
He releases me, but before I can ask him what the hell, he takes my hand and drags me through the club. We reach a bathroom that Tripp leads me into, and ignoring the one dude washing his hands, Tripp kicks open a cubicle and shoves me inside.
His jaw is tense, hazel eyes darker than usual, and it occurs to me I’ve never seen him like this before.